


"Get in character."

by jumbi



Series: Filling the Void [6]
Category: Super Paper Mario (Game)
Genre: Gen, nastasia is Doing Really Good, pregame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-06 00:34:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19051660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jumbi/pseuds/jumbi
Summary: o'chunks has a lot on his plate, and nothing on his dinner plate.





	"Get in character."

**Author's Note:**

> this short scene takes place in my larger comic story "filling the void". it takes place between scenes 57 (in which the count's physical health begins declining) and 58 (in which nastasia and o'chunks search for the count, who has wandered off in another fugue).

Nastasia jerked around at the sound. Even O’Chunks had heard it clearly. He watched her drop the spoon into the pan and, despite his complaints, immediately rush over to the Count. He leaned too far forward to pull the pan off the fire and nearly lost his balance when he spun to join Nastasia by the Count.

“Sir, what’s wrong?” She was asking. O’Chunks sat across from her with a heavy thud. The Count flinched a few seconds later. He was staring at nothing, slumped over, head bowed. No good.

“’E’s not awake, Nassy,” O’Chunks started, his voice low. Damage control first- Nastasia was easier to calm down. He doubted the Count even heard them. “I don’t think ‘e really knows what ‘e’s sayin’.” Nastasia turned toward him, a deep frown furrowing its way into her brow.  _Be patient_ , he told himself,  _however she takes it._

“He’ll snap out of it.” Nastasia insisted. O’Chunks resisted the sigh bubbling up his throat. “He has to. We just have to help him.”

O’Chunks settled his weight forward, resting on his palm. “How d’yeh want to try, Nassy?”

“ _Count Bleck is stupid. Count Bleck is worthless_ ,” the Count muttered. His breathing was even more ragged than usual. O’Chunks put the back of his fingers to the Count’s head. It was wet and hot. He figured. He wiped his knuckles on his shirt.

Nastasia took a rattled breath. “Um… You… He’ll listen to you. Tell him one of those stories.”

O’Chunks hesitated, then rested his hand on the Count’s shoulder. “’Ey, Count, d’yeh want to hear somethin’ interesting?” He offered.

The Count didn’t even blink. “ _Unhand Count Bleck,_ ” he said tonelessly. O’Chunks let his hand drop.

O’Chunks glanced at Nastasia. “’E usually at least closes his book… Should I take it?”

“Absolutely not,” Nastasia’s reply was sharp as knives. “He needs it.”

“ _Count Bleck is evil,_ ” the Count continued, eyes fixed on a spot O’Chunks was pretty sure was under the ground. “ _Count Bleck will do as he’s told without comment or fuss or delay._ ”

O’Chunks rubbed his chin hairs, then tugged on them thoughtfully. “I don’t think… Nassy, this book isn’t a very nice set o’directions. Are yeh certain its prophecy will do good?”

Nastasia opened her mouth to respond, but the Count interrupted with what sounded like a hiss. “ _No_ ,” he quickly added. “ _The Prognosticus is correct and right. Count Bleck is a pathetic layabout who must be convinced to do the right thing. Without the Prognosticus’ guidance, all Count Bleck can ever do is bring shame to his tribe._ ”

O’Chunks grunted. He watched Nastasia’s face fall as the Count spoke. She looked up at him.

“Do you really think… He doesn’t know what he’s saying…? About himself?”

Honesty or kindness…? Would she catch him if he lied? He tugged harder at his beard. She would. “I still don’t think he’s awake at all, Nassy. Should we try something else, or leave ‘im to it? Yeh left our dinner sittin’ cold… ‘E might need food. I know I’m hungry for that, ehhh, stir fry yeh got goin’.”

In desperation, Nastasia wrapped her fist around one of the Count’s lapels- “ _unhand Count Bleck_ ”- and pulled him down a little closer. O’Chunks saw her mouth move, but his tired ears couldn’t pick up the sound. His tired eye, however, did pick up the Count’s confused blink and the quick twitch of his good ear. He took his cue.

“Don’t worry, Nassy. Our Blecky-boy will pull through…” He stopped and smirked when the Count jerked as if he’d been pinched and glared at O’Chunks. “… if we keep our heads up and stay organized.”

Nastasia’s mouth thinned into a narrow line. “I do say that…” 

“ _’The general’s nonsensical games will not distract Count Bleck,’ sneered Count Bleck_ ,” he mumbled, unable to pull out of his funk.

“Glad you like ‘em,” O’Chunks responded without thinking. Nastasia huffed.

“Well, I’m not giving up. What else have we tried that works?” She had hunched her shoulders to brace herself. Did she expect him to argue with her?  Arguing with her wasn’t going to get dinner finished any faster.

He grunted as he started to think. But the Count seemed to have become agitated. He hadn’t  _moved_ , but his breath had taken on an edge that O’Chunks could just barely hear. Nastasia returned her full attention to the Count.

“ _Get up,_ ” he tried to snarl, but his voice was too weak. “ _Stop loafing about. Count Bleck must move on to the next world._ ”

Before he could try to reach for his wand, and before Nastasia could say anything, O’Chunks wrapped his long arms around the Count and Nastasia, pressing both of them against his stomach and trapping the Count.

“ _Unhand Count Bleck._ ”

“Wha-!”

“We’re not leaving today!” O’Chunks growled. “I just got the tent set up. We ‘aven’t even finished making dinner yet.”

“O’Chunks!” Nastasia kicked her leg impotently. “Let him do what he wants.”

“ _Unhand Count Bleck._ ”

“Nassy, I don’t think ‘e  _can_  leave,” O’Chunks sat back, still carrying both of them. “Too sick. What if we land somewhere dangerous?”

Nastasia went silent. He couldn’t see her past the Count’s lolling head. He waited until the Count broken-recorded his line twice more.

“Yeh can’t jus’ let ‘im do whatever, Nassy. We ‘ave t’take care of ourselves. Wandering about lost in the woods all th’time is  _dangerous_. We cannae afford to get this sick.” The Count’s elbow blade was jutting awkwardly against O’Chunks’ arm. The cape softened the poke, but he really needed to shift them around… would Nastasia listen?

He waited a little longer. It was a little unsettling to notice that the Count complained once exactly every thirteen seconds. At least he was running out of energy. He was getting quieter. But O’Chunks was letting himself get distracted. He had to listen carefully for Nastasia’s voice or he was going to miss it, especially under the broken-record chorus.

“Fine.” There it was. He lowered the two of them until Nastasia’s feet could touch the ground, but didn’t let go for fear the Count would actually try to get to his bag. They had already had to leave behind O’Chunks’ flashlight once before, in order to catch him when he opened a portal unexpectedly.

“ _Unhand Count Bleck,_ ” the Count mumbled, barely audible, barely managing his t’s and k’s.

“I know yeh don’t get sick, Nassy, but th’Count’s health ‘as been  _really bad_  the whole time I’ve been with yeh,” he said softly. “Did yeh really just hop around willy-nilly for days on end like he keeps tryin’?”

He felt Nastasia’s weight shift. She must have looked away. “… The Count makes those calls,” he could practically feel her a ’quiver back there. Of course she’d be upset. “Yeah, it’s his quest, not mine.”

“Not both o’yours…?”

“ _Unhand Count Bleck._ ”

“He’s the boss.” He felt a shift in her weight again, so he lowered the two so Nastasia could sit down. The Count slumped forward against his arm. At least he wasn’t heavy.

O’Chunks tilted his head. It was easier to see Nastasia with the Count’s head out of the way. “D’yeh think  _he_  thinks of it that way?”

She stiffened, and then turned her head carefully toward the ground.

“ _Unhand Count Bleck._ ”

“Yeh be quiet,” O’Chunks said. He saw the corner of Nastasia’s mouth just barely twitch upward for a second. “What d’yeh think, Nassy?” he pressed.

She frowned. “… I… don’t know what to think,” she admitted.

“Yeh know what I think?”

“What’s that.”

He adjusted his arm and shifted the Count, trying to get more comfortable. “I think yeh could try t’help yer friend get back on ‘is feet an’ ask ‘im whose journey this is.” He perhaps didn’t know the Count- or whoever he had been- well enough to just assume what the answer would be, but he had a feeling. Loyalty-  _devotion_ \- like Nastasia’s didn’t spring up without respect or care. Whatever had happened to him, the Count had clearly been giving Nastasia something she sorely needed while he was well. And O’Chunks would bet a basket of the flakiest biscuits it was something like friendship.

Thinking about biscuits was making him hungry again. But he really didn’t trust the Count to not start up again once he let go. The Count’s book was stuck under O’Chunks’ backside for the time being, but he figured the moment it was within his sights, the Count would start trying to get up and go again. Or, just as bad, become very frustrated about not getting up and going.

He almost missed it. But he heard, or thought he heard, Nastasia’s quiet sniff. She was still turned so he couldn’t see her face well, so he couldn’t be sure. But… there it was again.

“Oh, you two,” he sighed. He pulled them both closer. Both of them needed a lot of very big hugs. He didn’t think he could ever give them as many as they needed.

“ _Unhand Count Bleck,_ ” he started up weakly again.

Nastasia took a deep breath and leaned her head back against the Count’s shoulder. She turned her head upward, watching the cloud of trailing smoke from their cooking fire drift upward and blot out small patches of stars.

“ _Unhand Count Bleck…_ ”

O’Chunks thought about how they could salvage the, er, “stir fry” he’d been watching Nastasia butcher. He could probably handle the rest of the cooking tonight and put her on dish duty again. They all needed to have basic survival skills, but… he hadn’t anticipated how hard it would be for someone who didn’t eat food to learn to cook.  _At least twenty years ago, now,_  she’d said when he asked.  _Yeah, that was the last time I ate. I don’t miss it._

“…  _Unhand_ …”

The Count went quiet.

He looked the Count over with a mild curiosity. He seemed like he’d actually fallen asleep, without either of them telling him to. Was it progress, or was he just that exhausted?

“Think I can let go now, Nassy?”

“… Yeah. Yeah, ‘k, let’s get back to work.”


End file.
